Jedi: Family Vows
by Wangan
Summary: Where there is treachery, find loyalty. When there is hate, be kind. Where there are lies, find honesty. Where there is greed, be generous. Where there is sadness, find laughter. When there is magic, there is the Force.—Ditzy Doo, to her daughters two days before her death.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: This is a re-write of an old story written by an old friend of mine who's health issues stopped him from writing. I haven't really seen him since high school but we chatted recently and he told me he wouldn't mind if I did this for him. Plus, I wanted to take a break from DBZ and jump into Star Wars for a moment. If you want to read the original check out Sins of the Mother on Fimfiction. **_

On a planet of little importance, a shield dissipated with the death of a pony of great importance. The shield however did not fade away in obscurity. It shattered violently upon its weakening, letting forth a torrent of power into the Force not unlike water flowing free from a broken dam. The released power was far too much and far too sudden and, for one singular horrible moment, the Force wailed as it was nearly ripped in half, ripples cascading across the galaxy like tidal waves.

XXX

In the central circular chambers of the Jedi temple on Canterlot, ten of the most powerful masters sat in serious discussion.

There were a great many things happening in the Republic, the war with the Sith Empire foremost on everyone's minds. Responding to events quickly, major and minor alike, took constant vigilance which was why every being present was up so early or late depending on where they were.

Though the sun was barely on the horizon and a few hours past midnight for Canterlot Standard Time, it hardly mattered to those who could regulate their internal clocks with a simple breathing exercise.

These Jedi in particular rarely were not active, ready for action at a moment's notice even if their padawans were just picking the sand out of their eyes at this hour.

Four of the seats were occupied by holographic projections of the absent members, distance not being a problem for the instant communication of their modern age.

The discussion on the Empire's push into the Mid-Rim broke off suddenly as a sense of foreboding washed over them and, as if they were of one unified mind, they closed their eyes and dove into the Force.

Then the Force shattered around them.

Of their number, a dark blue alicorn who had joined her comrades in meditation, was the only one who hadn't screamed, though she did indeed follow them into unconsciousness.

XXX

In hyperspace, on a tiny ship that was on it's way to make a routine delivery to the outer-rim, a little filly and her big brother screamed their sister's name over and over trying to wake her after she collapsed on her way from the cockpit.

XXX

Pain was nothing to new to a Sith. It was an old friend. An ally. A relaxant. A shield. At times even a focusing lens in the heat of battle.

Yet this pain had been so sudden, so…fierce, that a scream had nearly ripped itself from his lips.

It had come like a bolt out of the dark, unexpected and, in the wrong situation, lethal. Barely any warning as well, just a sudden stillness pulling at the edge of his senses like the calm before the storm.

It had been only moments before the unrecognizable suspense around the Force quickly turned into an inferno of agony that left the darksider a trembling mess on the floor as snatched his awareness, dug its claws in deep, and raked his mind raw. It did not feel like anything exactly, just focused and intense.

And that intensity burned.

For the first time in a long time tears streamed out of his eyes as the Force shivered in pain along with him and unable to focus that pain into power with the very source he pulled from being its cause, he struggled to ride it out. With what little control his muscles could muster, he reach up and pressed a small button on his throne activating several traps on the doors and walkways that led to his chamber before darkness overtook him. As he passed out, he found himself glad that he was in his meditative chamber, isolated from the rest of the ship. The last thing he needed was for anyone else to bear witness to this moment of vulnerability, his apprentices especially.

XXX

Back on that little planet of no consequence was a small unicorn filly and her step-sister, both standing and crying over the body of the mare that had raised them. The mare passed away in her bed in the middle of the night. The only friend of the family, a brown earth pony stood solemnly as he draped the bedsheet over the mare's still form. He felt guilty since he had been present for the mare's last moments but was refrained from getting the girls per said mare's request.

As he said a few prayers over her, he silently recalled the promise they'd made, one she begged him to reaffirm even in her last moments. To look over the mare's two daughters, her dull eyes glassy and watering at the unfairness of the situation. It had taken everything in him to remain respectfully stoic while the girls wept. It helped that he'd cried himself out before he cleaned himself up and woke her girls.

Not one of them were unaware of the effect her death had on neither the galaxy nor the trials that would soon test the one child who wanted nothing to do with it.


	2. Chapter 2

Ponyville wasn't called the jewel of the outer rim for nothing. It was, by the standards of the outer-rim economy and even a few mid-rim worlds, the richest city in the sector and with that wealth came protection. It was by the bounty of Ponyville alone that the planet Combay was able to afford a defense military large enough to repel pirates and give slavers pause. Not that they hadn't had their fair share of attacks, there was always some being greedy enough or stupid enough to try and test the planetary defenses and limp their way back in the hyperspace with no riches to show for their effort.

Combine the solid defenses with a non-extradition policy of wanted Republic criminals, a good pay for anyone willing to join the local militias and anyone who did try to attack the planet would find themselves on the wrong end of too many blasters. It was the reason, most assumed, why the planet had avoided the war for so long.

However, all this 'security' came at a high price.

That price?

Fragile Town. The southern section of Ponyville was, to anyone with working eyes, so much less glamorous than the rest that it wasn't even funny. Defined by small shacks and buildings that were of obvious lesser build quality, it all stood out greatly against the city scape.

It was a dumping ground for the wealthy of Ponyville. Step out of line or piss the wrong one off was a sure way of enthusiastic relocation.

Anyone who was either too honest, too poor, too crazy, or any combination of the previous was packed into this five by five mile block of ghetto, walled off from the rest of the city. The only entrance back into Ponyville proper was a wide clear boulevard to the north leading to a single huge gate. The large guard detail, bigger than most prisons, made a no-go zone around it. Anyone who approached was immediately shot from the watchtowers which had spotlights sweeping the area 24/7.

Calling the measure necessary was an understatement considering that the murder rate in Fragile Town was so high that bets could be made regularly on who would die and in what way.

This was the second price of Combay's policies.

Shot. Stabbed. Strangled. Beaten to death. Suicide. Thrown off a building. Drowned. And in very very rare cases, old age or sickness.

In Fragile Town, you could die at any time and for any reason. That was the rule, not the exception.

It was something that was on Dinky Doo's mind as she moved with the crowds, rounding the corner at the end of the overflowing avenue that led to the market, fully aware of the dangers that surrounded her. She pulled her cheap loose-fitting jacket tighter around her shoulders and pushed her hands deeper into her pockets to make sure they covered the credits which would count for next weeks meals.

An entire weeks worth of profit from the shop was with her and Spirits forgive if she lost it.

Making sure there was direct interference for the money at all times from pickpockets, the little unicorn cupped her hand around her credits and squeezed. Her pants, just as bulky and loose as the coat, were only held up by a rag she used as a belt and the hole made for her blond tail.

Under the weak light of flickering streetlamps the market came into view and she took a deep breath of relief.

The market was one of the few safe places in Fragile Town because it was the only place that you could buy food that didn't come from the upper city disposal droids, making it one of the few independent places here. An unspoken rule existed between every gang not to make moves into it. The streets on the way in the free game but it was understood that trying to shake down those willing not to let Fragile Town starve was a bad idea.

Market stand owners didn't even need a blaster. No one would dare start something here if they valued their life. If anyone even looked the wrong way at someone, the whole town would come down on that poor soul in an instant. It was kind of amazing what others would do for fresh vegetables.

Gently, she nudged her way through the stand-lined street. Dozens of voices haggled over products while other's shrieked at the top of their lungs to get the attention of potential customers before they passed them by. While food was the main reason anyone came, everything and anything was sold here, from (fake) exotic jewelry to animals smuggled in from the upper city to sex of any kind. She made an effort to avoid looking in the direction of several scantily clad mares and stallions of various species who tried to get her attention as well as she passed. Twelve years of age or not, they saw her as a potential customer, not a child on an errand.

"Oi! Dinky!"

The 12 year old filly froze in mid-step after just waving away a female abyssinian dressed in some feathery one-piece, turning to her left to search for the voice. Through the crowd she made out a particular stand and saw a taloned hand waving from the wall. She cut across the street, a smile curving on her lips as she made out the scarred beak of a familiar griffin.

"Miss Gavorn. You're in a different spot." She had missed her. She didn't understand how but somehow she didn't see her until nearly passing her by, expecting the usual stand to be on the other end of the street. It wasn't like she was hard to spot either. Every part of her clothing bulged, clearly a size too small. Even the buttons were held taught, indication of muscles underneath. Broad shoulders and almost barrel-like chest dwarfed everyone Dinky knew, even her moth— She bit down that thought as quickly as she could before the smile was forced off of her face. "I expected to see you further down."

"Aye," Gavorn laughed, jovial and full throated. Somehow it managed to drown out the rest of the street "Got 'n upgrade yesterday after the 'taur here before got taffed in the bar and yowled 'is cakesocket off at the wrong bounty hunter. Now 'm gettin' more business than I 'ave got 'n a long time." His smile got even wider as he continued. "Yer pickin' up the usual?"

Dinky barely had time to nod before a huge bag filled to the brim with food was just short of slammed on the wooden counter. "That'll be fifteen credits."

The unicorn blinked. The bag set before her had to be seventy, maybe eighty credits worth of food. She leaned forward to make sure she didn't hear that wrong, her voice low. "What?"

"Fifteen credits." Her voice was firmer now but broad smile unchanging.

She was serious.

Dinky crossed her arms, an incredulous look on her face. She knew she must have looked silly from the way Gavorn laughed a moment after. "Don' give me that look. Jus' feelin' generous today."

"Really?" She didn't buy it in the slightest, from where she was standing she could tell that several items in that bag were worth more than she had on her. "What could make you feel so generous today that you would sell a fresh carrot for _fifteen credits_?"

The silence that followed was two moments too long for her taste. Not that any of the merchants from 'out of town' couldn't be generous from time to time, but it was well understood by everyone that any goods you bought here were at a very high markup compared to Ponyville proper. Who would complain, after all? And if they did, who would listen? Even Dinky as young as she was understood that. Gavorn was one of the merchants who played it straight, making the offer so much more bewildering. This was the kind of deal more unscrupulous types of make. The poisoned drink that comes back to bite once it's too late to spit it out.

"Noticed that, did ye?" She finally said, the griffin's scarred beak twitching as her smile lessened somewhat. "Meant to put that 'n the bottom of the bag."

"Okay." She sighed in resignation. "I heard 'bout yer mum from Time Turner so' he an I decided..." That was all it took for Dinky's mood to dive bomb out of the little goodwill she had scraped together earlier this morning. For a moment, just a moment, she considered swatting her right in the beak. The last thing she wanted to be reminded of, the very last thing, and she just had to bring it up. With a deep breath, she didn't wait to hear the rest of Gavorn's explanation. Pulling the credits out of her pocket, she quickly counted out fifteen chits, slammed them on the counter hard enough to rattle some of the other goods on it's surface and scooped up the bag without a word.

She turned to stomp away but was brought up short by a huge talon grasp on her arm. "'M sorry 'bout yer mum. Truly I am."

She shrugged off the hand, the apology doing nothing to ease the pain in her chest followed by guilt. Gavorn was just trying to help, probably the only one in this town who would, wasn't right to treat the griffin like that. "Thank you for the help, Miss Gavorn. Sorry, it's just..." She paused, trying to stay as polite as she could then shook her head. "I got to go."

With one final wave, she left. The roar of the market faded into a dull buzzing and soon was absorbed into the silence of the streets. She had been wrong for that, she knew. Here she'd been the one to demand an explanation and, not happy with the answer, was stomping off like a foal half her age. Hells, she didn't even know why she'd reacted like that. Generosity was something that was rare in this town and Miss Gavorn's association with Mr. Turner might as well have been a green light on the deal. So why…? She shook her head, knowing exactly why.

Being reminded of her mother not even a full day after her funeral. Not only did thinking of what she and her sister had lost put a bad taste in her mouth but it was made all the sour by her attitude. She would give the griffin a better apology next shopping trip.

That, however, didn't change her sister and her's abysmal situation. Their mother had been the only one with a steady stream of odd jobs, not to mention some money came in from their droid maintenance shop that both she and Sparkler helped with. Now with their mom gone, their income was pretty much halved. Between food and rent they might not have a home by next month. It was a tough situation and just thinking about it made her stomach flip. She was twelve, Sparkler was sixteen, and without their mom it was open season for every creep, scumbag, and lowlife in this city to come after them. Not that their mom hadn't prepared them. Sparkler was a crack shot with the blaster and she herself knew how to fight with her fists and a good solid wooden stick. She wouldn't be able to take on a grown stallion in a fair fight but she knew where to hit that could cause the most pain.

Frustration and worry gnawed at her as the uncertainty for her future…her sister's future… All of it was so unknown now. When her mother was alive, it was so simple. They just followed her lead, did as they were told, and learned what she taught. Now Dinky knew what an abandoned ship felt like. Directionless and powerless, floating at the mercy of whatever the universe could throw at it.

She shivered as a gust of wind barreled into her, biting through the thin layers she wore and chilling her to the bone. Or maybe that chill was the thought of being on the streets without Sparkler who had to stay behind. They wouldn't last long without the shop and if they left it vacant for any length of time...well, they'd probably have nothing but a bare stripped out building to come back to. Maybe even with a few unfriendly folks waiting for them, at the very least.

Sighing roughly, she shook and rolled her shoulders in an attempt to work out some of the tightness in her back.

When the repurposed swoop garage that pulled double-time as their home and shop came into view, she fished her cardkey out of her pocket and came to a stop in front of the door.

At least, she managed to get home without a problem.

"Don't move." A scratchy voice quietly demanded. "Don't turn around."

And of course, she thought too soon.

A hard cold object was pressed into the small of her back, right above the spine. The tell-tale whine of a blaster charging focused her thoughts instantly and she cursed silently. She had been caught up in her own mind and hadn't been paying attention. Now someone got the drop on her.

"You scream, I shoot."

Her attacker's voice was unmistakably male but it was extremely rough, gravely, and dry as if he hadn't drank anything for days. She spied a length of rusty pipe by her hoof and formed a plan while nodding that she understood.

"Good." The voice rasped, "Now empty your pockets. With your hands. Your horn glows, I shoot."

Slowly, Dinky reached into her pockets and, thinking fast, pulled out her credits only to drop them by 'accident'. The voice cursed and the blaster moved away from her back as the money clattered to the street.

"Pick them up." He commanded.

The unicorn nodded, bending her knees slowly and reached for the credits, which just so happened to be scattered on top of the pipe. She set down the groceries while she bent over to free up her other arm and, before her attacker realized she really was reaching for, she already had the pipe in her right hand and swung at his legs. Between her short stature and her mugger's adult height, targeting a weak point was easy and despite the rust, the pipe was solid and weighty.

It snapped the taller male's knee with a sharp Pop! His scream of pain didn't stop her as she quickly pivoted around the way her mother taught, placing herself behind her attacker, who she now could identify as a dark red pegasus.

Well, that explained why she didn't hear him, he probably flew in. But now she had a certain advantage. Her mom taught her that the wing joint was the most sensitive part of anatomy on a pegasus or griffin and seeing that she was going up against a grown stallion, Dinky knew that this was not a fight to drag out.

Again, hitting the target was easy. The pegasus, screaming turning into gasping weeps, was half collapsed in the filthy street, twitching wings at chest height for her.

With one semi-circle swing to build up momentum and compensate for the difference in mass, she gripped the pipe with both hands and brought it down across his back as hard as she could. The left wing took the brunt of the blow, collapsing in on itself with a series of crackling snaps, sending him face first flat into the street.

He didn't get up, out cold. The joint did it's job.

Wasting no time, she swept up her credits and tucked the stallion's fallen blaster, which looked poorly to say the least, into her belt and tried not to shiver when she noticed his wings.

Both the unbroken right and the broken left one could barely be called wings in any definition, the feathers were molting and the ones that weren't falling out even as she watched were a ruffled, tangled mess with patches of exposed flesh where feathers met fur.

A tell-tale sign of lack of care and drug abuse, probably the local Dust if she had to guess-it was Fragile Town's "Cash Crop" after all-and she felt her hands shake just a little bit more.

Clearly suffering from withdrawal, he could have easily fired without warning and she would be the one lying still in the street, quickly cooling in the evening air.

While it was a fact of life here, didn't make it any less scary. Just as she gripped him by the shoulders to pull him out of the way, the front door flung itself open and Dinky got an up close look down the barrel of her mom's blaster, her sister Sparkler's hand steady.

The light pink unicorn looked at the pegasus out cold on the steps then looked back up at Dinky and she holstered the blaster. "Money, drugs, or sex?"

"Money." Dinky answered as she struggled under the weight in her effort to try to drag the unconscious male from their front door. "Took his blaster off me when I dropped the credits. Can you get his legs?"

"Yeah," Sparkler answered, grabbing the pegasus' by the hooves and easily hefting her end up. She couldn't help but frown at the way his ruined knee folded, leg bending with a sickening sound. As they both shuffled him across the street, Dinky noticed that she noticed the odd angle of his wing. "So... the leg and the wing joint?"

Dinky nodded as they rounded into a nearby alley. "First one made him drop the blaster. It was the joint that dropped him." She didn't miss the sympathetic wince that her sister made as she spoke.

"Ouch."

"I know. It's why I did it."

"Set him here." Sparkler said with a nod to a nearby trash disposal container.

With a toss, they dropped the stallion into a refuse pile where he moaned. Dinky couldn't help but feel guilt of a different color touch her as they turned back to the shop, a feeling which quickly winked out at the weight of a blaster at her side. A blaster that, junk or not, could've ended her life a few minutes ago. That soothed whatever pains she had at the stallion's pain.

Picking up the bag, Dinky followed her sister through the small metal door and almost immediately tripped over a T8 model's head. She managed to catch herself before she cracked her muzzle on the floor. "I thought you were going to clean these up while I went to get the food." Parts and pieces were scattered all around the floor and every table and counter in the room that served as their kitchen, living room, and workshop.

"I was...but then I got distracted." Sparkler said, taking a seat at the worktable and moving aside the other half of the T8. Unsurprising, her sister's obsession with droids had a tendency to 'distract' her frequently yet never seemed to transfer into making sure the shop was organized. "Hand me that blaster."

"Whatever," Dinky sighed passing the blaster over as she threw the large bag of food onto their table, ignoring the droid parts that clattered off the surface and fell to the floor. She wasn't cleaning up if her sister wasn't.

Sparkler was just about to turn to her table when she stopped and squinted at the bag. "Where did you get the money to buy all of that?"

Oh, here we go. Not wanting to answer and knowing where the conversation was headed if she didn't, Dinky mumbled a response and hoped against hope that Sparkler would let it go. She didn't.

"What?"

"It was Gavorn, okay! He gave it to me at a discount." She snapped before lowering her voice. "Because of mom. But I told-"

"Sith spit." Sparkler swore, cupping her face in her hands and slumping into a chair. "Dinky, how many times must I tell you!? We can't take charity. We won't take charity! You know what will happen next? Ponies will talk. We will not turn out like Twinkleshine."

Dinky winced inwardly. She wanted to argue but any mention of that pony shut it down right quick. Twinkleshine was Fragile Town's cautionary tale that they both had seen play out when they were younger.

Shine, a drunkard among many things, had somehow decided that borrowing, begging, and accepting unknown charity in this town of all places was a safe way to live. Dinky thought the mare had gone insane, personally.

Her plan failed right at the first hurdle when, backlogged on rent, she was kicked out of her apartment. She ended up on the West End, where the brothels were, resorting to selling herself and taking loans to get by.

The latter choice had made her life considerably shorter.

It came to a head when she took credits from the wrong loan shark, a known member of the pegasus Black Wing gang, and failed pay her dues. While Dinky hadn't personally seen it, the word on the street was the ones who found her could only identify the body by Twinkleshine's cutie mark when they found it.

"You think I don't know that?" The sorry tale of Shine aside, Dinky hated hearing about it for many reasons. The most of which was that her sister would always use it to shut her down. Twinkleshine becamce a verbal deflector shield to block anything else that she had to say, when her sister needed to be right. "You didn't let me finish, as always. Spirits, you always treat me like I'm stupid! Nevermind the fact that I JUST saved both our behinds." She snapped, motioning towards their newly acquired blaster.

"How dare you! Ever sin-"

Knock-knock.

The sisters stopped their fighting and looked at the door.

Dinky looked warily at her sister, worried. She received an identical look. "Was the druggie wearing colors?"

The implication of the question was clear, if the guy they just dumped around the corner had been wearing gang colors, the knock could be his buddies.

The little unicorn shook her head. "Didn't even look."

"I'll get the door," she whispered. "And you grab the blaster. Just in case." Sparkler nodded.

Dinky, taking only long enough to pull a knife from the nearby sink, she pressed the button on the wall. With a hiss the door ground open to reveal the cold face of Time Turner.

"Oh. It's you," she sighed, pulling the knife from behind her back. "Come in, I guess." She stepped aside to let him in. "It's just Mr. Turner, Sparkler!" He nodded at Dinky and trotted slowly into the small room, his steps even.

"Dinky. Sparkler." He set a small brown bag on the floor in front of him. Sparkler raised an eyebrow and poked at it.

"What, is that food or something? Because we don't need any, we're-"

He stopped her with a raised hand. "No, Sparkler, it's not food, for Spirit's sake. It's not even for you at all, so you can stop talking." His mocking tone told of his poor mood which had lingered since the funeral. In fact, it only soured further in the days after. His already prickly personality cutting sharper than usual. Dinky didn't know what kept him at such a simmering level but neither she nor Sparkler wanted to test it.

"Wait, you were the one who talked to Gavorn about this food?" Oh, now she remembers. Apparently, she was the only one who didn't want to test Mr. Turner's mood right now as her sister's subborness came through in spades. "Who gave you the right to talk to anypony about our business?"

Turner's eyes flashed, turning around to face Sparkler faster than the little unicorn expected him to move. "Your mother."

Those to hissed words and all the air went out of the room, her sister's swelling indignation deflating just as quick. "What?"

"Must I repeat myself? I promised your mother I'd take care of you both and to do that I've been cashing in on the goodwill I've built in this place over the years. So, yes, I pulled some strings with the bird and no, this wasn't some behind the back deal that's aimed at you, Sparkler. So could you for once get over yourself and take the gift?"

Again, shocked silence.

Dinky had never seen him go off like that before, not even at the worst of her sister sass. Sparkler looked equally stunned, mouth open and ears back. Her expression hardened, cheeks flushed but the point was made and she took a seat at her worktable. "Why are you here?" She asked again, setting the old blaster down to work on.

"Look," Time Turner sighed, frustration leaking out of him and running a hand through his mane, his firm but tired eyes glancing back at Dinky and making the unicorn feel very small indeed. "Just... Just open the bag."

She stared at the bag puzzled, and then to him, back at the bag.

"Well, are you going to open it or stand around all day?"

If there was one thing that could be said about Time Turner was that he was just as ornery as he was kind, though his patience was currently in short supply.

"Isn't that uncomfortable?" Sparkler snapped as she picked up one of the tools scattered on top its surface and popping the blaster's case open.

"Is what uncomfortable?"

"Walking around with that huge stick up your plot all the time."

Dinky tried and failed to keep the smile off her face.

Time Turner was not as amused. "Witty. Do you share your brand of humor with everyone or do you save it for me?"

"Nope, you just keep giving me good material."

"Well, while it must be nice to have a subject such as myself as your muse," he said ignoring another snort from Sparkler. "Let's get back to the reason why I'm here."

Dinky rolled her eyes. It would probably be better for everypony if she just opened the bag. The last thing she needed was Mr. Turner and her sister having a verbal slap-fight all night.

She warily picked up the bag by it's handle and undid the clasp. Inside lay a small package, wrapped in tightly in old, dirty cloth. There was also a palm-sized hexagonal-shaped holoprojector that looked quite expensive, with a holo-disk sitting on top of it.

Dinky's eyes widened and she gasped, "This was mom's?" A holo-journal! She had seen these before and her heart began to race. She could see her mother again, even if it was just in projection form.

Quickly, enthusiastically, she snatched the projector up and began to press the disk into the slot but Turner stopped her.

"Don't play that first! Good grief, I swear..." he said, indicating the package still inside the bag with a wave, "Your mother made me promise not to play anything on it. It's for yours and Sparkler's ears only."

The temptation to disregard Time Turner was strong. She wanted to see mom again, to hear her voice again, but one annoyed look from the earth pony let the desire subside for the time being.

"Fine." She grumbled, setting the things on the table next to the groceries.

With a sigh, she pulled the wrapped bundle from the bag and pulled away at the string binding it. As the piece of cloth fell away, revealing what was underneath Dinky felt her body go cold with all thoughts of the journal knocked of her. A gasp from Sparkler went nearly unnoticed.

At first, it appeared to be a bend of solid black pipe but all it took was for her to see the solid silver switch near what she thought was the top to identify what it was.

A lightsaber. A real, honest to the Spirit's lightsaber.

The hilt fit comfortably in her grasp, the single gentle slope from end to end perfectly fit into her palm even as large as it was, finishing with a single stylized spike-like blade guard. It was also slightly heavier than it's size would suggest with several tiny silver circles embedded in the side near the pommel Dinky recognized as her mother's cutie mark.

Trembling slightly, a look up at Time Turner and his serious expression confirmed that she was indeed holding a lightsaber, the weapon of a Jedi. That meant...oh.

The confirmation didn't lessen her shaking. She had never seen one of those warriors in her life, she'd only heard about them tangentially whenever someone brought up the wars in conversation. Stories from both survivors and witnesses to the war with the Caribou and the current one being raged in some sector near the mid-rim didn't miss mentioning of them at least once. Not that she had ever got a chance to listen long enough to get any real details beyond that, her mother would never allow her to be near when the subject was brought up.

Now she had a clear idea why. More than a clear idea, she had an answer. An answer that brought up so many more questions than she could reasonably voice at one time. In fact, there were only two she managed to bring to the forefront of the chaos that was now her mind.

"This was mom's?" Dinky echoed, only just managing to bring her voice above a whisper. "Why didn't she ever tell us?"

Of course it was obviously her mother's, her cutie mark was on the thing but the stock-still shock of what she was holding and what it meant… She had no idea what it meant. Still, even with the obvious literally in her face she needed...something to let her know that she hadn't lost her mind.

"I guess, she wanted to keep it secret," Time Turner said with a sigh, looking more tired than he'd ever looked before. "She only told me in order to keep these things safe. And that's why you won't have to worry about any bill coming due."

He sagged in his seat for a moment then clapped his hands together and stood up. "Now that that's out of the way we can focus on the trip ahead of us. We're getting off the planet tonight."

Wait. What?

XXX

There was a shift in the entire ship as it came out of hyperspace.

And for the first time since take off, Darth Spectrum opened her eyes from her quiet meditation and smiled.

As if on cue, the door to her quarters hissed open and the captain, a uniformed stallion with a green mane, stepped in and saluted. She practically tasted the anxiety that swirled around him like a fog as he spoke. "We have arrived at the destination and are beginning our approach, my lady."

She didn't answer him nor asked questions, there was no point in questing for further information at the moment. Smoothly rising from a crouch and letting her robe fall to the side, she made for the door and swept past, the captain practically scrambling to stand aside. The stoic front he put on didn't hide the relief ringing off his mind like a bell. There was no real chance he would be able to hide his true feelings from her or any Sith for that matter.

"How long until we land?" She finally asked on the way to the bridge, the hum of the engines the only audible companion to their steps against the durasteel floor. "We have to hurry."

Again that pulse of fear but no hesitation. "A few minutes, my lady. The ship is registered to the planet. Spaceport Authority should give us no trouble."

She let his answer hang in the air, her silence winding the knot of tension in the captain a little more with every step. Finally, she couldn't help but giggle to herself which only turned the screws even more. It was enjoyable to make others sweat every once in a while.

Reaching the bridge, she took a deep breath and allowed herself one more smile at the way every member of the crew stiffened before it drifted away.

Gazing out upon the planet through the view screen for the first time, she sneered at it. Spectrum wasn't easily awed in this pathetic mudball would not become an exception. In fact, the sight of 'The Jewel of the Outer-rim' disgusted her. Gray and sickly green, the planet looked like a infected wound. A malignant tumor hanging in space.

This place would've been one of the last she's ever to grade herself to visit and here she was, without even the usual comforts of a ship worthy of her post.

However, she wasn't allowed such a luxury for two reasons. First and foremost, her mission was meant to be discreet and a private dreadnaught or corvette was hardly an inconspicuous transport. They would have the planet's defense squadrons on them in seconds after they dropped from hyperspace, not that they would have been a problem but the annoyance of wasting their suppression teams and valuable time on barely battle worthy scrapheaps from the outer-rim's 'safest' planet was a waste. Second, even being this far from Republic territory didn't mean that any Sith shouldn't exercise caution when traveling on solo missions.

To anyone else, the metallic gray ship she was descending on looked like an average freighter transport. To the planet's space authority sensor suites it registered as the Guard Badder, a civilian transport taxiing people from another outer-rim planet. Yet even if Combay's sensors were up to snuff, which they weren't, they never would have noticed the weaponized modifications of the ship.

The thicker hull, strong shields, powerful cannon, and overpowered generators that supplied them didn't register to any of the scans and were so thoroughly and seamlessly constructed into the design of the ship that only the most strict and observant of inspectors would've noticed the abnormalities. It also would've required nearly stripping the ship down but anyone stupid enough to try that on this ship would've found the crew's objections far stronger than just a few words.

To think, this planet was the source. Her master wouldn't have ordered her here otherwise but...

She frowned as the memory of that pain, lingering in her mind, dragged itself to the front and she closed her eyes and reached out. Inhaling slowly, she narrowed her senses to the planet before them.

Her mission was simple: find the source of the disturbance and, if possible, bring it to her master. She felt her wings twitch at the thought. Calling it a disturbance was a mild understatement, it had been excruciating and had almost killed her when the agony hit during her lightsaber training. She had no doubt that anyone even remotely connected to the force had felt it, which also gave her the one reason to rush to get to its source: The Jedi.

Even if their Council was bogged down in debate, they would at least send one of their own to investigate as soon as possible.

After all, a weapon that could leave a Force user helpless in the empire's hands would win the war and they would know that. That's what it had to be, a weapon. The cowards would lock something with such a potential for destruction away on some backwater whereas the Sith would gladly use it in any and every capacity it could provide. Idly, she wondered why it activated now of all times.

Odds were that a yokel floundered upon a –

She very nearly stumbled, almost physically being knocked back by the power that slammed aside any thoughts of a weapon. The aura in the Force was wild, not lashing out but not still and peaceful by any means. Like an ocean, there were waves and tides to it that nearly took her breath away.

But above it all, it was emotional. Emotion meant sentience. Which meant that the thing shining in the Force like a beacon in the night, was a person.

This changed things.


End file.
